The Clubhouse

My sister lived ten years as the only girl in the family. Five brothers and Mary Claire. At family gatherings even today Cookie, Hunter, and Jimmie talk about how easy it was to make Mary Claire cry. They act like it was a role they relished and each one can always top the other’s story. All the while, when they talk about these times, they have their arm around Mary Claire, or they can’t get the stories completely out because of the goofy smile on their face. As I study the family pictures, I see that Mom took refuge in her girl. Mary Claire’s hair was always curled just right, she always had on a perfectly pressed dress for church, and she was always standing in the middle. But, the biggest hint that gave away the position that Mary Claire held as the only girl in the family was that there were rules that were apparently established just for her. At Sunday lunch, I heard the stories about how “special” she was; and as we raised our own children, I understood the “she gets anything she wants” whining first hand. Just to give you an idea, there is a picture of Cookie, Hunter, Jimmie, and Mary Claire standing beside their clubhouse in Navasota. It was a little difficult to tell the girl apart from the boys. They all had on jeans with worn out knees, cowboy hats situated on their heads each tilted in a different direction, guns and holsters, and a real tough guy smirk for the camera. The soft curls seen in most pictures featuring Mary Claire were hidden under her hat. She was at home with the boys and apparently that is where she spent most of her time. Anywhere her brothers went, she would be there, too. She did not want to miss out on one adventure and there seemed to be an adventure everyday. Upon closer inspection of the picture, you can see the lettering scrawled on the old wooden door of the clubhouse. Painted up high were the words: “no girls allowed except Mary Claire because mama made us.” Now that’s how I know for certain the magnitude of the position that Mary Claire held. Even the neighborhood kids knew and accepted that Mary Claire had her place of importance deeply entrenched.

I was born when she was ten years old. One would think that she would not want another girl to come along and usurp the attention she gained being the only female, but quite the opposite was true. She was thrilled to finally have a sister. She lavished attention on me. Even though there was a difference in our years that would distance most siblings, our bond proved to be strong. When the teenagers went out cruising, it was just like the clubhouse scene. Lucy came along “because Mary Claire said so.” And, no one argued. It never occurred to me that I was not welcome in my grandmother’s big old car that all the teenagers and I rode around in. After all, the boys had painted the car Navasota High School blue, and Mary Claire used her artistic talents to paint the NHS rattlesnakes on each door of the car. It was the clubhouse of the time, and I was now a part of it. Mary Claire was head cheerleader for the Navasota Rattlers and I was the mascot with my own uniform. I performed at the pep rallies and out on the field every Friday night. We were always at the football field. For years, during any game, junior high, junior varsity, or varsity, there was always a brother playing. The announcer would call out the plays saying, “Swanson passes to Swanson”, or, “Onto the field comes Swanson” or, “Swanson calls time out”, or “Swanson fumbles”. The Navasota football coach had to love my parents. They provided him with a football team and consequently, most of the crowd in the stands. And, I was always right beside Mary Claire. We shared a room and we shared secrets.

My brother Jimmie was closest in age to Mary Claire and they, too, shared a special relationship. Jimmie always did well in school and Mary Claire still laments having to follow him scholastically, but their closeness was easily apparent. When Jimmie went to Rice University and became an All-American football player, Mary Claire would go to visit. On one visit she met Stan Smith, one of the Rice football players. They eventually became engaged and it was easy to see that Mary Claire’s status in the family had not diminished. My mom’s oldest girl was getting married! We did not have a lot of money, but my parents wanted to have everything perfect when Stan came to meet the family for the first time. With so many kids, the best entertainment for our family was cooking hamburgers in the back yard. The kids could run around freely, neighbors would always stop by, and it was a ritual that the meal would be topped off with homemade peppermint ice cream for dessert. It is easy to understand that when your house is small and your numbers are large, the safest place is outside. So, a big cookout was planned for Stan with our standard tried and true fare. Papa and most of the five little ones would help prepare the hamburger patties for the grill. He would divide up the tasks for us to do. After he seasoned the meat just so, the even numbered kids would shape the ground beef into balls; and the odd numbered ones would smash the meat into patties using the salad plate that Papa assured us would make the hamburgers just the right size. Papa’s only concern would be that we were making the meal “nearly too good to eat!” The older kids were assigned to cleaning up the backyard, getting the grill ready and making everything nice for their sister. Mary Claire herself was going to attempt to make the peppermint ice cream. It would all be perfect. To his credit, when Stan met the family, he did not even flinch. He joined in the perpetual basketball game while the burgers were cooking and withstood jibes from my brothers. He did not even comment on my younger brother Pat’s condition. (Pat’s state resulted after he went around from adult to adult asking for a sip of their beer; each one of them indulging the youngster unaware that everyone else was doing the same.) Stan even did his turn with the hand cranked ice cream freezer and commented on how wonderful the dessert would be because Mary Claire made it. All in all, the evening was going quite well. When the ice cream was finally firm enough to dish out, it seemed that everyone gathered around the freezer for their helping all at once. It was almost eerily quiet as we all paused to gauge Stan’s reaction to Mary Claire’s part of the meal. As he spooned the first bite of the sweet, pink concoction into his mouth, there was a collective sigh. She really could make ice cream. It looked just like Mom’s, so how could he not like it? Then, as everyone else started to partake of the dessert, laughter slowly trickled about. There was nothing wrong with the flavor of the ice cream. However, it was a little difficult to eat. The trouble was that the wrappers from the peppermints that were used to make the ice cream were never taken off of the candy. Stan just smiled and removed each wrapper as he came to it and kept eating. Did he see some sort of unwritten sign that said, “Enjoy it because Mama said so”? Was he scared of saying anything because he knew that my brothers were very protective of their sister? Was he still in shock at the sheer size and numbers involved with the woman he had pledged to spend the rest of his life with? Or, did he just see the evening as a whole? Forty years later, Stan is still a part of this family and Mary Claire stills holds her high ranking of importance and the peppermint ice cream story is still one of those most told at Sunday lunch. All in all the wrappers were a good sign. The sign stated loud and clear that hardly ever in life would everything be perfect no matter how much effort was made to make it so. When surrounded by family, imperfection can be handled and even relished. The greatest lessons can be learned by watching the ones you love deal with the unexpected. Whether these are the monumental life-changing things that are thrown your way or just the peppermint wrappers of life, it is nice to know that you will always be welcome in the clubhouse. Mama says so.